Daisy
by Fire Kunai
Summary: *Drabble request for the AC community on Tumblr* In which a drunken Thomas Hickey and John Pitcairn steal a cow and ride it all over town.


**Drabble request from my Tumblr RP account from an RPer of Thomas Hickey. It was just a really quick one but I decided to upload up here for some laughs. Enjoy.  
**

**"Write a drabble about my character and your character doing something cute and fluffy together."**

* * *

**Daisy  
**

John had had too much to drink.

That much was abundantly clear, judging from all the tankards that were on the table. Still, at least he hadn't drunk as much as Thomas Hickey – who was snorting and giggling away next to him. The contents of his tankard sloshed from side to side as the younger man told a rather loud and animated story about a lassie - who apparently flashed far more than a little ankle. Even in his drunken state, John was not the least bit surprised when the Tavern owner came over and insist that they had had enough and should leave.

"Come on Hick, lets go," John said, pulling his friend up onto unsteady feet, slinging one of Hickey's arms around his neck. Hickey gave a moan of protest.

"Awwh, do 'e af to?" slurred Hickey

"Aye, we do. We want to be able to come back here remember?" John tugged his drunken friend away from the table, only barely managing to keep himself steady. It wasn't his fault. The floorboards kept moving from beneath him. John raised a hand in apology at the bartender – or in his general direction.

The pair stumbled out the door together and out into the chilly, Boston air. The fresh air made his head swirl and when he went to take a step forward, John felt as if he had two left feet. God above, he had drunk more than he thought. Thankfully the street was mostly deserted for the officer could barely see straight.

Then he felt Hickey tug on his uniform.

"'ere John, look at dat," remarked the drunk, pointing towards something not too far away from them. John squinted in the low lighting. He could make out a large, brown blurry looking object. It took him a few moments to realise it was a tethered cow, munching on a patch of grass lazily without a care in the world.

John looked to his friend, eyebrow raised. "It's a cow. You've seen plenty, trust me."

Hickey's eyes glinted in the dark. "''Les steal it."

"What? Are you mad?"

The younger man was too far gone to listen. He simply frowned at John, as if contemplating something difficult. "It's only a a cow 'nd dun worry, I'll return 'er." He tugged himself away from John – who almost fell flat face into the dirt in the process. "C'mon, 'les go for a ride," he slurred again before stumbling his way over to the tethered animal

John followed after Hickey with some difficultly, finally able to see the farm animal a little more clearly now. By the time he reached her the younger man was already trying to get himself onto the beasts back – giggling and snorting each time he failed to throw a leg over her furry back. John reached out and tried to pull his friend away before the she kicked him where he breathed. "What are you playing at?" he hissed.

Hickey shoved him off and John fell against the fence, arms and legs splayed out. "I'mma ride this cow 'nd you aint gonnae stop meh Pitcunt," Hickey, looking determined while he swayed on his feet. "Least jus' gimmie a leg up if yer gon be a mud in the stick. Wait, 'hats not right. Stick…stick in the mud."

Knowing that it was useless to try and stop him (not that he was in any shape to in the first place) John struggled up from the fence and focused his gaze on Hickey. All two of him. Why wouldn't he stop swirling about? "You promise you'll return her?"

Hickey gave a boyish grin, his cheeks pink from the effects of the alcohol. "On me father's grave."

"You don't bloody know where he's buried."

"True. But c'mon, just one ride."

"Alright then," John relented. His sensible side tried to intervene, only to be bayoneted back down the alcohol still in his system.

He turned to the farm animal – who was looking at them with a vary eye, as if trying to figure out what they were planning. Hickey petted her back gently. "Is alright Daisy, we won't 'urt ya. We jus' want a little ride." He turned to John. "Oi, gimmie a leg up."

John nodded, cupped his hands together and managed to couch down far enough without falling over on his backside. Hickey placed a boot into John's hand while he gripped the lead rope that had been tied around her head like a bridle. With little difficulty even in his drunken state, John managed to hoist Hickey up enough so that the younger man was able to swing a leg over the side of the brown beast. She gave a loud mooing groan in protest as Hickey shifted around on her back, trying to get comfortable.

"Someone might see us and think we're raping a cow," John said, glancing around to see if anyone had appeared on the street yet.

"Thought 'hat sheep were more yer thing John."

A snort escaped his chest and he didn't even bother getting offended. He had known Hickey far too long. "Go take a running jump off a short pier." John extended his hand out. "Right, come on then. Help me up."

Hickey readied the cow, keeping a hand coiled around the rope while the other clamped around John's forearm and hauled him up onto her back. John was surprised that she didn't give way from the weight. She was a sturdy girl apparently.

Instead, she just mooed loudly again at them and gave a buck trying to throw them off. "Easy love, easy does it," cooed Hickey, as if he were speaking to a woman rather than a farm animal.

It didn't seem to work for she bucked them again. John coiled one arm around Hickey's waist while a hand clutched the hat upon his head. It was a nice hat. He liked his hat and did not want to lose it. Sitting upon the farm animal, he then wondered what on earth had possessed him to get on her in the first place. Maybe it wasn't too late to get off?

Hickey, a drunk as drunk can be, simply whipped the rope reins before he could try. "OI! GIDDYEEUP DAISY!" Hickey shouted at the top of his lungs and dug his heels into the side of the cow's expansive side.

Daisy let out a moo of protest at the sharp jab in her belly and shot off beneath them; so quickly and so suddenly that John would have fallen right off had his arm not been coiled around Hickey's middle. She ran quite unlike a horse, quite unlike what John was used to. He was used to the rocking motion of a canter or gallop. Daisy ran like a trotting horse four with four left legs. They galloped down the empty street and turned off to the left onto the main thoroughfare of Boston. Citizens stopped and openly stared at the two men galloping down the street on the back of a cow. A redcoat patrol stopped dead in their tracks as John and Hickey came riding on by. John could their expressions as they trotted on past, ranging from intense laughter to sheer horror to wide eyed confusion. They all looked at each other, unsure what to do or how to proceed. John could hardly blame them. It wasn't often that a redcoat officer – a Captain none the less – went riding all over town with a drunkard and a cow. It was like the start of a bad joke.

Nonetheless, he couldn't help but coil his arm tighter around Hickey and join him in an impromptu, out of tune version of the Drunken Scotsman.

The next morning, Pitcairn awoke to: a splitting headache, Hickey sprawled out on his couch, a cow in his kitchen and a rather irate Haytham on his doorstep.

He was never, _ever_ drinking again.


End file.
